


Keep me like an oath

by Oath



Category: Bleach
Genre: Author feels bad for Tite Kubo, Author is unapologetic, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Cannon Divergence, De-Aged Characters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear the grandmas of the Rukongai, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, Hallucinations, Historical References, I refuse to believe that Ichigo can go back in time and everything is a-okay, Ichigo is touch averse, Ichigo's soul is messed up, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, Mental Instability, Minor Original Character(s), No Romance, Nobles are shitty, Older Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Psychological Trauma, Reconciliation, Seireitei never learns from their mistakes, Serious Injuries, Shinigami/Zanpakutou Bond, Time Travel, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, War, Why is the Rukongai so destitute?, Zanpakutou Materialization, bleach universe, world building of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 16:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oath/pseuds/Oath
Summary: Yhwach's prophecy of all beings living in eternal fear before death comes true in more ways than one. Faced with the fallout of three crumbling realms, a decimated Gotei 13, and an increasingly sickly body, it seems Ichigo's fate is no different than those before him.Yet--Despite Yhwach's claims and protests, Ichigo knows that fate is always fickle. Yhwach's flaw was always looking to the future and never the past--and the future is always built on the shoulders of the past. Unfortunately, with his ailing health, Ichigo wonders if anything can be done. In his final days Ichigo requests to be transferred back to the world of the living despite the imbalance between the three realms. Forever indebted, the remaining captains and lieutenants attempt to grant his wish.In the interstitial and rotting space of the Dangai the released vestiges of the Soul King from Yhwach's death culminate and entrap Ichigo. With no Kōtotsu to regulate time distortions, Ichigo quickly is absorbed by the Kōryū.Ichigo finds it's not fear that is eternal in the face of death, but regret.





	Keep me like an oath

**Author's Note:**

> I really like time travel stories and decided to write one of my own. Fair warning though, the ending of Bleach was a mess, so this story may equally be just as messy as I sort through and piece things together. This story still takes place in the Bleach Universe. The beginning will be slow.
> 
> Also, read at your own risk, there is no set update schedule for this. One last thing, it has been awhile since I've completed reading/watching the manga and anime adaptation. I may not always present things as they were originally, but the general terms and concepts that make up the Bleach universe are adhered to, to an extent. I of course play with these things, we are talking time travel here folks! Helpful comments are appreciated.
> 
> Oh yeah, and more characters definitely died between Aizen and Yhwach so don't be surprised by that in terms of Ichigo's delusional flashbacks. Also, yes, Ichigo went thought multiple wars and battles before he was even a legal adult. He is going to have trauma. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this far.

**—Prologue—**

Yhwach's prophecy of all beings living in eternal fear before death comes true in more ways than one. Faced with the fallout of three crumbling realms, a decimated Gotei 13, and an increasingly sickly body, it seems Ichigo's fate is no different than those before him.

Yet--

Despite Yhwach's claims and protests, Ichigo knows that fate is always fickle. Yhwach's flaw was always looking to the future and never the past--and the future is always built on the shoulders of the past. Unfortunately, with his ailing health, Ichigo wonders if anything can be done. In his final days Ichigo requests to be transferred back to the world of the living despite the imbalance between the three realms. Forever indebted, the remaining captains and lieutenants attempt to grant his wish.

In the interstitial and rotting space of the Dangai the released vestiges of the Soul King from Yhwach's death culminate and entrap Ichigo. With no Kōtotsu to regulate time distortions, Ichigo quickly is absorbed by the Kōryū.

Ichigo finds it's not fear that is eternal in the face of death, but regret.

**—???—**

PART ONE: Parting (Chapters 1-?)

Opening my eyes, I recognized a distinct and unsettling coldness in my body. It stuck like the creeping feeling I would get when by chance a centipede would crawl into my futon seeking warmth and wiggle over my toes—a squirmy, want to get up and run away—kind of feeling. However, I couldn’t do anything like that, if anything my fingers barely twitched at the gross memory. Looking skyward a light snow falls, slowly coating me and the ground around. The snow isn’t heavy enough to stick and soon melts on contact. A strong wind skitters over me, frigid, before passing onto the trees, creating a rustling moan. If I weren’t in so much pain—if I weren’t so damn cold, maybe the winter flurry could be considered beautiful.

The side of my back that rests against the ground is numb from lack of movement. However long I’ve been here is not something I want to think about. With much difficulty, muscles _screaming_ , I struggle to sit.

_Shit. Not a good idea._

There is a little hunched tree nearby that I manage to scrape my way toward. The tree does a piss poor job of giving any protection from the cold. The side of my body resting against it protests _again._ The prickly numbness takes it sweet time to ebb.

_How long have I been lying on the freezing ground, in the middle of nowhere?_

The last thing I remember clearly is Shunsui harshly grabbing my shoulder with a horrified look on his face that I hadn’t seen since Ukitake had passed—a sort of desperation that I had shared in—or rather that we shared too much sake over or maybe not enough. His hand dug hard enough into me that I could almost still feel his nails tearing through the fragile fabric of my raggedy shihakusho. His eye though looked very afraid, startled, and before I could locate the source of his panic—

_I was swallowed..._

Of course, the Dangai was going to give him shit. When had it not? After Aizen’s meddling rarely did anyone pass through there unless they were suicidal. Well, suicidal, or him. Renji would joke about this too if he were around, probably gloat in his face about how _any_ Shinigami could have avoided this from miles away or call him a winey bitch. Depending on if it was an _irritate Ichigo day_ or just the usual _piss off Ichigo day_ how much complaining he got varied. Though if you asked Ichigo, each was just as bad, _maybe_ just as bad as a nagging Rukia.

_Shit my head is pounding._

**_G…et…..mov…ng…_ **

Zangetsu’s coaxing was startling. I managed to bang my hand back against the tree, snapping a poor branch off in the process. And well, Zangetsu didn’t sound great. Like the static on the radio, a sort of annoying mess that you just want to turn off. But the skin crawling feeling hadn’t stopped. If anything, there is a sense of imminent threat, but maybe that’s just what death feels like, but I am not sure what it is. Still, I sit rooted, slowly flexing my hand. Everything feels floaty, like when Aizen cleaved my arm—

_No bad thoughts._

I watch my hand in a sort of fascination, that bad kind, when I want to slowly pull my fingernails off to just. _Stop. Make. Everything. Stop._ Leaning heavily against the tree, I tilt downward drifting my eyes over the tree line. I don’t want to move. I am still wearing most of my shihakusho, minus the left sleeve. Shunsui probably had it. Everything else is dirty though, in the kind of way that Yuzu would complain about having to work the stains out. Hah.

My chest is raw looking and red from the cold. My right pant leg is ripped up to my hip revealing a new wound that is bleeding down. If he is bleeding, he isn’t dead yet, right? More importantly, his leg was done for. Couldn’t hold any weight when attempting to stand.

_Damn. My feet are cold now too._

The open area is completely empty. If he had any energy to spend he might have tried to sense if Shunsui got swallowed with him. At least he wouldn’t be miserable by himself. It’s just after dusk, the sunlight is gauzy through the trees. Its almost peaceful despite how desolate the area feels. But peace was something Ichigo probably hadn’t felt in close to ten years or more. Life was brash and action and just. _Please. Stop._ And too much blood, too much everything _Rukia looking up at him her face grotesquely swelling—_

_Ah, shit._

Ichigo had spells like these. Spells that just drug him through hell over and over again. Failures. Regrets. Zangetsu would tell him to stop moping if he could, but even his spirits didn’t like to discuss their defeats, losses—their many embarrassments. I manage to wiggle my hands up the tree behind me, giving some leverage to push off with. Somehow I don’t end up with my face in the dirt. I hobble my way around, moving from tree to tree, I carefully shuffle my feet forward. Some time later, maybe on the opposite edge of the tree line, there are some puddles where enough snow has melted. I catch sight of myself.

_Damn my hair is a rat’s nest._

At one point, my hair had gotten long enough that Yoruichi would tease me by braiding it when I was napping. Even in this state, vanity causes me to rake my hand through it to look somewhat normal. There is also dirt on my forehead and under my eye as well.

_Looking at myself is bad._

There is this awful scar that runs over the neck. One that gets wider or smaller depending on how deep Aizen wanted to dig that day. If he remembered right it curves back behind his ear, from when he _accidentally_ jerked in an attempt to get away. That was a bad day too. The other scars are so many that they sort of blend into a wiry white mess. But the back is worse

_The back was always worse._

I move on, unable to look at myself any longer. Up ahead, further into the thicket, there is something brown and white, its small, barely visible through the trees. I wish it was that shitty wanna-be candy store that Kisuke had the audacity to still try to run after everything.

_Said he wanted normalcy_.

Nothing is normal. Not even that so called green tea he always had. Probably some kind of alcohol, had to be with all the nonsense that Kisuke got up to, made, or threw him into. _Like everything else._ Kisuke even had the stupid idea to be sorry for everything. Wasn’t that the day? Kisuke looking at him like redemption incarnate. Wheeze laughing his way through another piss poor attempt at fixing things. A failed attempt at that, one that left Ichigo staring at him disbelievingly. In a lot of ways Kisuke was like smoke, when thin enough you didn’t notice him, thick? Choke you to death like burning in a fire. Fact was, Ichigo could never escape Kisuke or his wily plans until the man decided to put himself out on the line. Wasn’t Ichigo always supposed to be the go to test dummy?

_Kisuke wasn’t supposed to die._

I pick up my pace. The stinging in my thighs, feet, and hands had only gotten worse. Maybe it’s the frostbite creeping in. There is movement up ahead. Well it seems like it is a shack at least. Someone emerges enough to become visible. They notice me and move in my direction.

_Looks angry._

The person, no woman? Is stalky and moves like a bear. As I approach her, I notice that her hair is dirt brown and maybe more dirt than hair. Its unflattering, even with the snow slowly collecting on it.

“Hello?” I ask when I can get close enough to not yell. She stops and appraises me. Not in a kind way. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have a weapon. In my state all you would really need is a rock to bash my head in—stopped being able to hold Zangetsu some time ago. The last time I could do anything I killed a man. Maybe its better I don’t have Zangetsu, I might kill her too.

_On accident._

“I need some help.” I tell her. I shift one of my legs forward while I try to stand tall with a hand on the tree next to me. Might as well try to look less half dead and more half alive. “Do you know where we are?” She’s looking harder at me, probably any harder and I might just disappear under the weight of it. Now she just looks suspicious of me.

_Good. Less angry._

“What is your name?” she asks me. She leans into the hutch beside her. I can hear the wood logs moaning to support the extra weight. I hesitate, for some reason the unease I feel worsens, and I hack up a cough. I don’t want to tell her my name. Many people thought I was dead after the war, that I valiantly went out with that bastard Yhwach. For what reason, Ichigo didn’t know, all Shunsui told him is that it gave people a hero, a (still) alive-but-surely-dead hero. The irony wasn’t lost on Ichigo. A literal dead man walking.

I suddenly want to run away again, like the centipede is crawling up my legs, its little appendages pricking at my skin.

“What is your name?” she asks more sternly this time, lifting herself up into a more defensive stance. I realize I am backing away from her. She just follows at a safe distance. “Stop moving,” she says, well snaps, and in the moment some of the snow laden branches above give way, creating a waterfall of snow. It startles me enough that my hand digs too hard into the bark of the tree, creating an awful popping sound, like bones breaking. I obey her though and stare at her. This time she stops walking towards me and looks over me again.

With a snap decision, I turn and start to hobble away. The dread just will not disappear. I get away with less grace than I wanted. She starts yelling at me in a way that I don’t understand. Everything is suddenly too loud and floaty again. _If I could just rip a nail off—_

_Stop thinking bad thoughts._

I’m in too deep. The dark murky deep where even Zangetsu or the Old Man can’t pull me out. Sometimes the captains, whose kidou wasn’t shitty, would have to just throw up a barrier around me. I got, _volatile_ , during spells. The kind I always regretted afterwards, but no one would be angry enough with me where giving an apology would actually mean anything. It was a terrible sort of blameless limbo. Whose fault was it that Ichigo went off the deep end sometimes? Aizen? The Central 46? Yhwach crushing his soul? Too many possible culprits.

Then I feel her hand on my shoulder, it’s like a hot iron. So hot its scorching through my flesh, into muscle, bone—and I am on the ground again. She’s knocked the wind out of me in the process of pushing me over. Look at him now, the great hero of the three realms breathless from a bear-woman. I struggle to get air again with her weight on me. I can hear my own pitiful attempts to breathe.

_Inhale. Just count, do the count to ten._

She’s not yelling anymore but where she touches is hot. She pulls my hand away from my shoulder where my nails had dug in messily. I feel her whole-body jerk as she shifts off of me, my hand now ratcheted around her neck. I suddenly drop her. I don’t know how long.

_It was ten seconds right?_

The creeping after-panic always made him flighty. I scurry away from her to a nearby tree. She stays where I left her, righting herself and rubbing at her throat. Its red. She looks at me with shocking green eyes, they are less dirty than her hair. I find myself leaning toward her, like a pitched roof about to cave in. Her hands are on me again and I see her mouth open. A river of blood spills out onto our abdomens, but she doesn’t notice. The blood is everywhere. She sits slightly to the right of me, some of her hair blows its way into my mouth. Its like straw. She never takes her eyes away from mine.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask her. She talks and more blood comes out and seeps down her front and she still doesn’t notice. I can feel her hands wrapped around mine and pulling them away from me and into her lap. At some point during the skirmish a man had come out of the shack. His muted footfalls didn’t catch my attention until he is right on top of me. He and the bear-woman exchange a look, but he is expressionless.

_Maybe he is speechless._

It is as though I’ve never meant anything to him. As if I hadn’t just tried to strangle this other person in the snow. I turn away from them both and realize my hands are still caught. I see the man lift his hand towards me, and before he can touch me, I thrash for my life. Like some dumb animal caught in a trap. The thrashing stops eventually, when Ichigo can’t keep himself upright. The bear-woman gets up and switches places with the man. Ichigo is too tired to care. He drifts lazily to the side where the tree rounds off. The man’s hands are also hot. He pulls him back upright, with his back soundly set against the tree. On the man’s head is a mop of dead weeds, maybe trying to be a make-shift hat. Ichigo realizes its actually hair. Straw hair like the woman. The straw-man says something but Ichigo isn’t paying attention. He repeats himself.

“Are you alright?” It cuts clearly through. Ichigo tilts his eyes towards the other in a moment of silent communication. He shakes his head _no_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ichigo is not okay.


End file.
